“Yeah, dude. He’s pissed at you for going out with Ben. I don’t get why this is a shock to you,” Corey says, swiping an armful of chip bags off the shelf into my grocery cart. I glare at the chips, then at him, but feel sort of guilty for it. It’s not his fault that Jerry’s been cutting back on my hours at The Daily Grind, or that I refused the offer of using Garen’s credit card to buy food for the party. But it felt wrong to use the card, knowing that Bill was probably the one who’d end up paying the bill. I rearrange the bags carefully, then follow Corey back towards the soda aisle.

“No, I get that. But he’s… different. It’s like he’s planning something, you know?” I say. “It’s like he’s not even pissed. He’s just completely blasé about everything now, like, ‘Oh yeah, I hooked up with you a few times, I used to hook up with tons of guys, my first boyfriend used to smack the shit out of me, it’s no big deal.’ He’s being more open with me now than he was in the entire three months we were together.”

Corey snorts. “Maybe that’s because he doesn’t have to impress you anymore. And what, you guys were really only together for three months?” I nod. “Weird. I thought it was longer than that, considering you guys almost got married and shit.”

I want to hit him with the two cases of Coke I’m holding, but I settle for hoisting them into the cart and following him towards the front of the store. “Like I really want to be reminded of that?”

“Yeah. Thank God you’re only seventeen and it’s like, not even really legal. Because that would’ve been the worst mistake of your life,” Corey agrees.

The ring on my finger feels hot, like the Hebrew inscription is written in flames. I don’t say anything more until I’ve paid for the snacks with the last two twenties from my last paycheck. Once we’ve left the grocery store, however, Corey’s looks are a little too pointed for me to justify being quiet any longer. I shrug and say, “He’s being too normal too fast. If he wanted to beat the shit out of me, I’d get it. If he wanted to never speak to me again, I’d get it. But he’s just… wrong. James thinks it’s some type of ploy. He says Garen’s M.O. is usually to mess with people’s minds and completely ruin their lives for sport. I don’t know why.”

My phone beeps loudly from my pocket, but I wait until I’m safely in the passenger seat of Corey’s car to read it.

Where r u? it’s already 8pm, people r here. hurry up w/ the soda, jack&coke w/o the coke is delicious but not the same :( –g.

“And now he’s drinking,” I say flatly. “Great.”

“Yeah, but everybody drinks. That’s not that big of a deal.”

I shrug and sink into my seat. Of course it’s not a big deal to Corey. His dad hasn’t ever given me a speech about finding drug stashes and empty bottles in his room. The old Garen – the Garen I know, at least – was so guarded that I still don’t know the story from his point of view, but James certainly hasn’t done anything to deny the stories. How the hell am I supposed to know if he really has a problem?

Garen was right about one thing; people definitely have arrived at the house. Corey and I pull up to see lines of cars parked on the curb and a few people trampling the neatly manicured lawn on their way to the door. Considering I only invited Ben, Corey, Alex, Jeremy, and Mason, I can assume that most of these people are from New York. Two unfamiliar boys are sitting on the front porch, and the one with dark red hair reaches up to snag a bag of chips from my arms.

“This guy’s awesome, he brought snacks,” he says to his friend, and adds to me, “Wassup, man? I’m Kevin.”

“Travis,” I say, glancing over at Corey as he heads into the house without introducing himself. “Uh… are you friends of Garen?”

“Yeah, he was in my squad before he moved here. He was my neighbor, actually. Do you go to Lakewood with him?” Kevin asks. I nod slowly.

“I’m a junior there, yeah. How’s the party?” I ask.

The other guy, a Latino boy with glasses, gives me a big thumbs up as he swigs from his red plastic cup. When he has finished swallowing, he says, “It’s pretty great. Garen’s the best guy to have at parties, ‘cause he’s so friggin’ entertaining. Get a few drinks in him and the next thing you know, he’s up on a coffee table, singing an Aerosmith song note for note.” He switches the cup to his left hand and holds out his right to shake. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. So… what was Garen like back at Patton? He says he was kinda crazy, but I can’t really picture it. He’s pretty sedate here,” I say as casually as I can. Kevin and Matt both burst out laughing.

“Garen, sedate?” Kevin chuckles. “Yeah right! He’s the most fuckin’ ridiculous guy I know. He pulled off some truly spectacular pranks, back in the day. And he was all about the party.”

“You know it. He and James were the first guys in our year to get fake IDs, ‘cause they looked like they were twenty-one way before the rest of us. What was it, end of freshman year?” Matt asks, and Kevin nods. “Yeah, end of freshman year, they had IDs and kept our dorm stocked better than half the bars in the city.”

“James is great, too. He’s just more, you know, into the sex stuff than Garen. He goes to a party, he just wants to hook up with somebody. Garen goes to a party, he wants to get fucked up,” Kevin adds.

“Which actually makes his plans riskier. None of the teachers ever really caught him with drugs or anything, but everybody knew he—”

“Matt, what the fuck, man. You can’t just go around telling people that.”

“No, it’s fine!” I say quickly. “I already know about the drugs. He told me he was really into coke for a while, but it’s not much of a big deal for him anymore. At least, it wasn’t before he left for New York again.”

Kevin laughs, though he looks a little apprehensive. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that tonight. Seth’s here, and everybody knows he’s the guy who sells the most shit. James is pissed, he fuckin’ hates Seth.”

“Well, everybody kind of hates Seth. Guy’s a total douchebag. But hey, if you want it, he’s got it, so we all sorta put up with him.”

They fall into a companionable silence, sipping their drinks and chomping their way through the whole bag of Doritos. I’m not sure if they mind me staying, but I don’t want to go inside yet, so I lean back against the porch railing and check my cell phone. There’s another text from Garen.

COREY IS HERE WHERE R U I WANT DORITOSSSSSS.

I blink at the message. Well, at least now I know he’s on something. I send back a text with one word; Porch. Just inside a minute, the front door bursts open an Garen tumbles out.

“Travis, you douchebag, I want chips!” he exclaims, darting towards me on unsteady legs. He flings an arm around my shoulders and stares directly into my eyes with a grave expression. “I would also like some Coke. Like, the soda. Do you have any? I’m not seeing any cans, so I really hope you plan to turn your hot ass around and go back to the store.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But apparently Evelyn – my stepmom, Travis’ mom – must think that ‘stepbrother’ is basically the same as ‘brother,’ ‘cause she was pissed as hell when she found out I took her kid’s virginity,” he says.

“Shut up,” I say tightly, but he just lets out a soft, humorless laugh and cards his fingers through my hair.

“Come on, Trav, stop pretending to be modest,” and to the guys, he adds, “The kid’s pretty good in bed, especially for someone who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Not as good as his boyfriend, Ben, though. Now, there was a guy who knew his way around a mattress. He was a fucking animal.”

“Shut up,” I repeat, louder. I can feel the heat creeping up into my face, partially from anger, but mostly from embarrassment. AmI really that bad in bed? Is it really that screwed up for me to be dating a guy who hooked up with my ex?

“What? It’s not like you don’t know. Or, I guess, maybe you don’t. I don’t really imagine the sex between you two is like, fireworks, especially since you’re both total bottoms. But your slut boyfriend really loves to get fucked, so I assume you’re playing pitcher? That must be interesting. ­And when I say ‘interesting,’ I really mean hilarious and awkward.” The cold smile he gives Kevin and Matt makes me want to throw up. “The real problem with fucking Travis is that it’s hard to get your cock in his ass when there’s already a huge stick up it. He overanalyzes everything, and believe me, sex is no exception. He’s so busy with his ‘oh my god, does he love me? Am I doing this right? Are people gonna find out I’m a faggot?’ bullshit that he forgets that sex is supposed to be sexy. I mean, every time it happened, I wanted to be like, ‘Is that really all you’ve got? Come on! Pull my hair, bite me, hit me, anything so I’m not bored.’ Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice kid. But… that’s pretty much it.”

I want to die.

“Y-You’re such a fucking asshole. I seriously cannot believe I ever dated you,” is all I can manage to make myself say before my voice goes out. His face is completely blank, but I notice his eyes darken as I pull off the ring on my finger and stuff it into his hand. I push open the front door, and add over my shoulder, “If you ever speak to me again, I will beat the shit out of you, and I promise you that you won’t find that boring.”

I will not cry. I will not fucking do it. I’m not a little kid like he says I am. I’m not some prissy little queer, I’m not a five-year-old girl. And Garen is not worth crying over. So why do I feel like there’s a rock jammed in my windpipe?

“Hey, Trav! Did you just leave all the chips out on the lawn? Your boyfriend’s hungry!” Corey calls to me. My eyes won’t seem to focus on anything, but once I have blinked a couple thousand times, I see that he’s standing near the stairs with Ben and Mason. Ben smiles at me and raises his hand in a small wave. I make a bee-line for him and crush him against the wall, knotting my fingers in his hair and kissing him hard.

When I finally allow him to come up for air, his eyes are clouded over and his breathing is heavy. “Hello to you, too.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” I murmur.

“This is a very uncomfortable greeting to be standing next to,” Mason says to Corey, who nods with a laugh. I ignore him and tug Ben towards the stairs. It doesn’t take much convincing to get him upstairs, but I open my bedroom door to find Bree’s friend, Molly, making out with one of the Patton boys on my bed.

“Get out of my room,” I order. The boy looks like he wants to protest, but Molly jumps up, blushing, and sneaks out past me. Her companion takes his time straightening his clothes, and glares at me once more for good measure on his way out. The second the door is shut and the lock clicks, I drag Ben towards me.

We fuck standing up, his hands braced against my bedroom wall, my mouth at the base of his neck. The sex tonight is a hundred times more intense than yesterday’s. I pull out every trick Garen says I don’t have, everything I’ve learned or had tried on me, until Ben’s knees are shaking so hard I have to grip his hips to keep him from collapsing.

He twists back to kiss me over his shoulder, and I catch his bottom lip between my teeth, reaching around to jerk him off to the rhythm of my hips. When he comes over my hand, his arms shudder and buckle so that he falls forward, his forearms flat against the wall.

See, Garen? I’m not sexually stunted. I’m not pathetic. I don’t have a stick up my ass, and I’m not boring. I can pull a guy’s hair, I can bite. I can make a guy come, hot and hard. Even Ben. Even you.

It’s these thoughts – these twisted, messy thoughts – that bring me to climax. I dig my fingertips into Ben’s hips, maybe hard enough to bruise him, and once I have finished riding out the waves of orgasm, we both stagger back to my bed. Neither of us is completely undressed, and I don’t know whether I should strip us both down to nothing and hide in my bed for the next year, or we should both put our clothes the rest of the way back on and go back downstairs. If we stay here any longer, someone’s bound to come looking for us, and that’s the last thing I want. I roll over to kiss Ben again, slowly, and get ready to return to the party.

No one seemed to have noticed our absence. I check the clock on my phone and discover we were only upstairs for about forty minutes. Not long enough for anyone to give a shit, I guess.

“Yeah, I was. I think it’d be fair to blame you for distracting me,” he says. He laces his fingers in mine and tows me out to the kitchen. I’m actually feeling more normal now; there is still a dull ache in my chest from what Garen said earlier, but it doesn’t matter as much as it did. I can ignore him. Really, I can.

Or, I could. If he wasn’t using his credit card to cut a line of cocaine on my kitchen counter.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I say hoarsely.

“I’m training rabbits to play chess, McCall. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” he says.

Ben cross his arms over his chest. “You told everyone you’d stopped.”

“Because I had. Welcome to my reunion tour,” Garen replies. I want to take a deep breath and blow the coke right off the table, but my feet won’t seem to carry me forward, and by the time I can really rationalize movement, Garen has already rolled up a bill from his wallet, leaned down, and snorted the entire line in one go.

“You’ve become a completely different person since you left,” I say as quietly as I can, if I still want to be heard over the noise of the party. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just stay in New York, if you were only coming back to torment us all?”

Garen’s eyes darken, just like they did on the porch earlier. I immediately regret having said anything, but I can’t take it back. He knows I meant it, and he doesn’t seem to want me to escape unscathed. “So, does your boyfriend know you only just fucked him because I told my friends you were bad in bed?”

Ben and I both flinch.

“Yeah. ‘Course, maybe I got it wrong. Now that I think about it, there were some things you were good at. Is he still as good of a kisser as I remember?” Garen asks, almost casually.

“It’s been a while since you kissed him, so I don’t know,” Ben says flatly.

Oh fuck. Please don’t say anything. Please, please, please don’t--

“I don’t know. Twenty-four hours really isn’t that long, is it, Travis? I mean, shit, for all I know, I was kissing you an hour ago. But I’m pretty sure it was actually just last night.”

“What do you think happened last night, after you left? Did it really seem like a good idea to leave your boyfriend in my bedroom?” he says.

Ben rounds on me. “Tell me this is bullshit. Tell me he’s lying.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t have to, because Garen is all too willing to say everything for me.

“You act like you don’t care about anything, but that’s the real bullshit, Ben. I bet you didn’t get any sleep last night, did you? Stayed up until the early morning, trying to figure out if you could trust him. And I guess you couldn’t, because the second you left, he got his sister and my best friend out of that room, and his hands were all over me. He couldn’t wait to get me alone, and trust me, we had a lot of catching up to do. Don’t bother asking him again if it’s true, because you know it is. You know it right down to your core, because every time you put your hands on him, all you feel is me. I got there first, I took away all that honor and innocence he used to have, and I made him into a pathetic, needy, deceitful slut, just like someone did to you, just like someone did to me. He’s damaged goods now, Ben, and I did that, just because I could. And you may think you’re hot shit, with your battle gear,” he yanks hard on the front of Ben’s black hoodie, then reaches up to smear a streak of eyeliner down his cheek, “and your war paint. But your armor isn’t strong enough to keep you from realizing that the only thing you ever were to him was a substitute.”

His hand falls limply to his side, and for a moment, we all just stare at each other. I want to reach out to Ben, to make him see that I really do care about him, but what can I say? He won’t believe me anyway. There is something wrong about his face now; his bright blue eyes have iced over in a way that shakes me to myvery center.

He clears his throat, crosses his arms once more, and says in a bored, flat voice, “Guess you’re right.”

“No,” I say forcefully, “he isn’t. Look, I… yes, I kissed him, but it wasn’t because I still want him. It was a reflex, like I couldn’t stop myself, and as soon as it even registered, I pushed him away and left. I told him it was the last time it would ever—”

“Do you remember Christmas Eve?” Ben interrupts. I blink.

“What about it?”

“I kissed Garen. I knew he was seeing someone, because he couldn’t shut up about it, but I didn’t find out it was you until he got kicked out. On Christmas Eve, I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and then he went home and told you about it. He said you were mad for about a second.”

I grit my teeth. Of all the nights he decided to reminisce about, it had to be this one.

He sits down on the edge of the kitchen table, shaking his head. “I thought you were such a fucking moron for staying with him. Seriously, I don’t know what he told you, but at the time, I was so convinced that you were just whipped. Why would you stay with a guy who made out with someone else? Why would you ever believe another word he said, after that?”

“Ben, please—”

“But I guess I get it now,” he continues flatly. “I guess sometimes it’s easy to tell yourself that it’ll never happen again, or that it was just a mistake. That’s what I’m trying very hard to believe right now, Travis. Because for the most part, I think Garen’s right. I didn’t mean anything to you – I don’t mean anything to you – and you’re really just with me because Garen left and hey, your dick isn’t gonna suck itself! Might as well have some fucking idiot trailing after you like a lovesick puppy, giving you any part of him you want.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You know I care about you. I wouldn’t be with you right now if I didn’t lo—”

“If you tell me you love me right now, this relationship is over,” Ben interrupts, and I clamp my mouth shut on the words. “I don’t want to hear the same bullshit all your other jock buddies try to spew out after they get caught cheating. I’m just assuming that you forgot how it felt on Christmas, when you found out that Garen had kissed me behind your back.”

It felt like shit, but not like this. Having Garen begging me not to care, hearing his protests about how sorry he was, feeling that hole being torn into my gut… it’s nothing compared to right now, looking at Ben, and seeing his heart just give up.

“This is worse. This is so much worse, I’m so sorry,” I say quietly. Ben squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he smiles without any real enjoyment.

“Last night with Garen was a one-time thing, right?” I nod. “And it’s never going to happen again, right?” I nod again. “And it wasn’t because you loved him. It was just physical, right?” A third time. “Alright. Then that was your free pass.”

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, I say, “I don’t understand.”

“That was the only time in this relationship when I will ignore the fact that you hooked up with someone who wasn’t me. We’re not going to break up. We’re not going to fight about this. You got one free pass, and you used it last night, with Garen, okay?”

“Okay,” I say slowly, even though it feels like a trick question. He hops off the kitchen table and heads to the sink to wipe away the rest of the eyeliner Garen smeared down his face. Garen himself is standing in the corner near the fridge, looking mutinous.

There, you fucking bastard, I think. You tried to ruin us, and it didn’t work. It blew up in your face, and nothing you do will ever make this type of thing happen again.

But almost before I’m done thinking that, Ben straightens his hoodie and heads purposefully across the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“You revisited one of your old hook-ups with your free pass. I think it’s only fair that I get to do the same,” he says over his shoulder. I scramble after him, catching his hand and trying to drag him back to me.

“Ben, Ben, Ben, wait. I thought you said you were going to get over this, that we weren’t going to fight!” I say.

Ben jerks his hand out of my grasp and says, “Because we’re not going to fight about this. There is nothing to fight about. You cheated, Travis. You made out with your ex-boyfriend, and you weren’t even going to tell me about it. You’re not the victim here, alright? You’re the asshole. And if I’m willing to forgive your indiscretions, you sure as hell better be prepared to forgive mine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Garen sidling out of the kitchen, watching us with the same calculation of a panther stalking its prey.

“We can talk about this, we can work it out,” I say. Ben nods jerkily and shoves his way through the crowd of people.

“Yeah, we probably can, but I think you’ll get my point a lot more this way,” he says. He finally comes to our group of friends, sprawled out over the living room furniture. Jeremy is attempting to flirt with one of my sister’s friends, who seems amused by his awkwardness; Mason and Corey are discussing soccer on the couch; Alex is on his knees, trying to pour himself a small glass of whiskey without spilling it all over the coffee table, which seems to be a difficult task for him right now. I see Ben’s eyes lock onto him.

“Ben, stop!” I order, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

“Al,” he says softly, and Alex glances up at him.

I’m struck for a moment by the absurdity of the image before me. Even though he’s on his knees, the top of Alex’s head still almost comes up to Ben’s shoulders, which means that Ben barely has to lean down when he curls his hand around the back of Alex’s neck and kisses him.

I am suddenly numb to everything. My body no longer feels like my own, and I am certain that what I’m seeing must be a hallucination. There’s no way I can be watching my boyfriend kiss his best friend. He can’t really be wrapping an arm around Alex’s neck, and I have to be imagining the flash of tongues meeting. It’s impossible that Alex actually lets out a ragged gasp and pulls Ben forward by his hips. He definitely isn’t scrambling to his feet, lifting Ben a few inches off the ground as he does so, and Ben can’t be circling his legs around Alex’s waist as Alex stumbles forward so that he has Ben pinned to the wall. I must be imagining the minutes tick by as they kiss and move together, their bodies intertwined while the rest of us just stare, slightly open-mouthed. When Alex pulls back slightly, staring glassy-eyed at Ben, their foreheads touching, it’s not actually happening; it’s just a very elaborate nightmare.

The only part I will allow myself to believe is when Ben untangles himself from Alex and drops back onto the floor, straightening his hoodie and finger-combing his hair.

“There,” he says with a shrug. “Now we’re even.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Corey demands. He seems to have recovered from his shock enough to return to his role as the indignant best friend. I want to call him off, but my mouth is too dry to form words.

“Travis gave Garen a bigger welcome home than I’d anticipated,” Ben says quietly. “And now he knows how it feels from the other end. It’s only fair.”

“I feel I’m being perfectly understanding. If I weren’t, I would’ve broken up with him already. But if he expects me to be alright with him cheating on me once with someone he used to hook up with, then I expect the same courtesy to be extended to me,” Ben says. He hitches his chin a little and adds, “Kissing Alex just now was a one-time thing. It will never happen again. And I don’t love him. It was just physical. Okay?”

No, I want to say. Not okay, never okay, I want to fucking scream.

“Okay,” I echo instead.

He nods once, a small gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Alright, then. I’m going home. Call me later, darling.”

Before he turns to leave, he kisses me. He tastes like whiskey.

Jeremy, Mason, and Corey are all staring at me; Alex still hasn’t moved from where he stood near the wall. Eventually, a movement near the couch catches my eye. Garen is creeping towards me, his body no longer tense and catlike. He slumps against the wall near Alex.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me.

I can’t tell if he actually means it. His face is completely blank, but at least he’s not growling out his hatred anymore. Whatever darkness has possessed him for the past few hours is gone now, replaced with defeat. But at this point, I’m not so sure it matters.

I shake my head. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Travis—”

“Don’t talk to him,” Corey says sharply. “Garen, I fucking told you months ago that if you hurt him, I would take you out. Luckily for you, you took off before I could manage that last time. Now that you’re back, the same rule applies. This is between Travis and his boyfriend, so I’m staying out of it. But if something like this happens again, I will fucking kill you.”

“It’s not fair, if you ask me,” Garen says, though he seems to regret the words even as he says them. “Everyone wants to protect Travis from me. And protect Ben from me. But has anyone bothered to tell Ben that he shouldn’t try to lead on the guy who’s been in love with him since they were freshmen? Poor, closeted Alex. I guess nobody but me has been wondering if it upsets him to have to hide how he feels about Ben just because it might interfere with the Great and Wonderful Romance of McCall and McCutcheon.”

Stunned, defeated, and still a little drunk, Alex sinks to the floor, staring at his shoes. For a few moments, no one says anything. Finally, Jeremy extends a hand to the blonde on the floor. “Come on, Alex. I’ll drive you home. This party is suddenly sucking.”

Most people leave with them. Even those who weren’t close enough to hear what happened must know that something bad went down, because within half an hour, the house is empty. Bree, oblivious to most of the night’s events, heads up to bed. James takes the time to gather up most of the plastic cups before he retreats to the guest room. And for a long time, Garen and I just stand there, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“No,” I say. “You’re not.”

I head for the stairs, fully intending to lock myself in my room for the rest of my life. I can’t seem to force myself to sleep, but I am comforted by the fact that I don’t ever hear Garen’s boots on the stairs. He could stand there in the living room all night, or at least until he starts to come down from his coke high. I couldn’t care less.